Princess Auriel
by friederike.geissler.3
Summary: Did you ever wonder why Elodin ended up at the Crockery or why Auri is afraid of the Amyr?


Once, there was a king in a mighty realm. Uncommonly, for the older times, there was no war during his reign and his country prospered. As all citizens were wealthy, they had ample time enough to educate themselves further and thus also science and knowledge thrived in this kingdom to a degree, that other countries, being not so well of, could only call them magic.

One day, though, the king's daughter fell deathly ill. There was no man in the whole kingdom who would not have helped her back to health, as she was bright and sunny as the sun. But no one knew how to cure the princess Ariel. It was then that the king send message to the other kingdoms, that whoever cured his little girl would be trusted with the king's lands and crown. On and on the messengers rode, but the illness of the princess got worse, even as more and more people went off searching for a cure. In a night with no moon the princess finally stopped breathing.

The king hid his face in his hands. As he did, he did not see how the pale woman had entered the room that stood aside his daughter' deathbed. But she spoke to him, and when he looked through his fingers, he saw her standing there, where none could have trespassed.

"Your daughter is not dead," she said, "though she soon will be, if death's path she's led. But still, she can be saved. Or not, depending."

"How," croaked the king, "I'd give you everything!"

Even speaking he could see how the last hints of red left the cheeks of his daughter.

"The price might be something, not you, but your daughter has to pay."

"She's my daughter, she'll have the whole world at her feet and more money she can spend in a lifetime!"

"But," said the woman, "if I do heal her, she'll also have terrible foes hunting her. She will not age, but you will. And lastly, she will never give birth. You still want me to heal her?"

The king was a wise man. He knew the queen wouldn't give birth to a second child. If Ariel was never to give life to a successor, the dynasty would be broken. If the dynasty were broken, there would likely come a war within his lands. And though he wished for nothing more in his life than for his daughter to breathe again, he knew that whenever life is given to the dead, nothing good comes from it.

"No, not actually."

"It is good you understand. However, not to your orders I bend."

Suddenly the three windowpanes in Princess Ariel's room shattered and wind filled it with a roaring speed. The furniture was pressed against the walls and there where glass shards flying around everywhere. The king, struggling against his chair watched as the woman's scarf unfurled into two mighty black wings as she bend down to say a word into his little girl's ear. Then he saw nothing any more as the candle by his daughter's bed extinguished.

When the queen went looking for her man having spent another night without sleep, lonely and in sorrow, she found the king asleep in the armchair in her daughter's chamber. But the princess was awake, even well, and did not remember ever being ill.

The queen and the king lived happily ever after, until they died. It did not matter to them as much as the king had thought that their dynasty was broken and that they had to declare the dimwit Modeg, son of a concubine of the king's, heir. They lived to short as Modeg's first act of state was to poison their breakfast.

But when he searched for the princess to throw her into the dungeon as a hostage against the king's council, he couldn't find her, nor could anyone else throughout the decline of the king's realm to what we know today as Modeg.

Some say, though, a small figure stood weeping at the libraries' highest tower when Caluptena burned away. Fewer persons yet remember the last time the four plate door was opened. And the one who managed to stuck it shut again. I myself am one of the last two persons remembering Ariel's true name, being able to guess her stories from pieces of parchment and clay tiles in ledgers long forgotten. This is why I was so surprised when my dimwit-pupil Kvothe came so close to her real name. But listen to how I encountered the princess first and judge for yourself:

Once, I stood before the four plate door thinking myself all manners of clever. I had went so far to ask my friend Alder and his recent ladylove to accompany me. You never know what awaits you on the other side of a door. So the three of us stood facing the four plate door.

"Do you know what's on the other side?" Alder asked nervously.

"I don't, exactly."

"Then why don't you hurry up and get us in?" asked his ladylove Dannica.

I had not invited her, if Alder hadn't insisted. They where to get married next felling. Up to this day I wonder what Alder found so fascinating in her. In that moment though, I said nothing of the sort and instead spoke a word. The world tilted. For a short moment gravitation ceased to exist and the few books in our immediate vicinity left their places, floating to the air as if thrown by unseen forces. Dannica shrieked. Alder reached out a hand to her to console her.

Except his aside was no longer next to him, but above. And below hung the four plate door gaping openly as the lot of us fell through.

"Wow," said Alder, as he steadied his feet, after I had realigned the gravitation to where it belonged. "Where are we?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered Dannica. "what's this?"

"That's strange. It looks like bones, human bones."

"Will you ever stop bullying my girlfriend, Elodin? Relax, Dannica, he knows more names than me which is the only reason why I follow him around."

"I'm not jesting. Be silent and appreciate the trickery which got us through the secret door without keywords."

Apparently we were gathered in a small chamber having two other exits. Some dark object occupied the middle of the chamber. The air, too, was strange. It was thick and heavy as if no one had breathed it in centuries. I breathed the name of fire and everything went worse.

The fire lit the shape in the middle of the chamber, old symbols of warning, death and madness around it. It was a stone, light passing through like through glass, though harder than diamond. I know this because of the voice that spoke in my head then, in a language I did not recognize. And there was a sound from within, like a cat clawing an ice sheet.

"Someone is inside," Alder said numbly. "Oughtn't we help?" and he stepped closer despite the fact that his girlfriend had started vomiting blood. And there _were_ skeletons on the ground.

"Come back," I hissed in my last clear moment, the moment, before the words had entirely engulfed my mind. Then – nothing.

I remember some things. I remember someone screaming and hitting the ground as meaning of words tore through him like fire through a sheet of paper. But I do not think this someone was me. I remember Dannica's eyes dimming and extinguishing. But I do not think I helped her. I remember Alder trying to steal a glance through the scarred glass. But I do not think I stopped him.

I think someone ended up at the crockery, brought there by the oldest protector of the archives himself. Or should I rather say guardian of what is imprisoned in the glass greystone that killed Dannica and drove Alder insane in a single gaze?

But it was me who encountered Ariel afterwards in a different room in a different time. The demon thing's words were crawling all through my head trying to find a way out.

"So, it is safer to be alone is it not?" I asked myself aloud.

"It is," she resumed our conversation, a conversation I had no memory of. "But it doesn't make you happy."

"Who are you?" I asked. "What happened?"

"I am a former princess. I am the one who lives in spite of death. I have been called Ariel, but it no longer is my name. You were brought here."

"Who did bring me?"

"No one. Some two."

"And that would be?"

"Me and the old man."

"The old man?"

She shrugged. "He is living in the building that holds the night inside. You spoke words. Words are running through him also."

Only then did I recognize that I no longer heard the words. I must have said it too, because the girl pretending to be a princess (or so I thought then) said smugly:

"Yes, I ate them. I have bright words inside too, so I won't die from it as you would."

"I see," I said cautious. Somewhere in my soul I felt deeply hurt, hurt too badly to heal, with a pain to strong to ever pass. I felt it was likely the person who did this to me was still somewhere close by. Also, being Namer has gifted me with being quite tolerant with ways of thinking others might call complete craziness. Like, for example, claiming to be a long-dead person. There is a type of knowing that is to big for a human mind. And with the stupidity of a true genius I said:

"It was a pleasure to meet you. Would you mind to tell me the way out of this charmingly... interesting place?"

I realised then I made a mistake because suddenly I was speaking to nothing but moonlight filling my prison. The one I was later introduced to as Auri was gone.

After Auri's visit that I then had to write off as a Fata Morgana, my mind cleared up again. This was somewhat unwelcome as it made me aware of my rather unpleasant surroundings. The fact that there were no doors, windows, or pieces of furniture in my room told me several spiteful things: First, I was imprisoned. Second, I was perhaps in a life endangering situation as I did not see how any bread or water would come my way. Lastly, pissing would become very insanitary.

I noticed then about the light. What I had thought to be moonlight earlier on did not change to daylight. Whenever I woke or slept the light was the same. Finally I decided that the walls simply glowed with it in irregular patterns changing from time to time. I had heard about this room, of course. It was called the death chamber for obvious reasons and it hadn't been used for eternities. Still, when I wrote "the history of the university. Myths and facts" as a school punishment for my friend Lorren I had found an old description of it in an autobiography of the crockery's founder. The anonymous founder said its purpose was to keep "monsters" with "powers outside the reach of men" inside until they died. Namers had been working on this chamber seven years to ensure nothing would ever escape it.

I had been on the other side of this chamber once, only to discover some former masters had decided to brick the door thoroughly. I ran my fingers across the walls trying to find the former entrance, but it was no use. I hit at the walls as well as I did not enjoy imprisonment. I yelled, but no one answered. I listened, but I could hear nothing. I looked for names, but they were no where to be seen. Exhausted I decided to sleep a little. I woke when someone adjusted a wet rug to my face. It was Puppet.

"How did you get inside?" I asked.

"How did you regain your consciousness?" he asked at the same time.

"It sort of decided not to leave me on my own," I said nastily. "May I assume there is a secret passage to this room and you have used it?"

"Look at little Elodin over there." Puppet said gesturing to one of two breadmen he had brought with him. "May I assume there is a secret passage to this room?" He moved the other breadman. "Oh yes, there is, little Elodin, but it's the Amyr's secret."

"But I want to get out, I want to get out!" the other breadman cried, jumping impatiently up and down.

The bigger breadman hovered closer.

"Little Elodin, what do you think closed doors are good for?"

"Hm, let me think. They are good for keeping treasures inside. They are good for hiding scandal from the eyes of the public. And of course, for proving your own cleverness."

"The four plate door is none of these," Puppet said, biting the head of little Elodin off offering me the rest. I barely restrained from eating it. Instead I eyed the bowl of water he had brought with him. It was slightly dirty and there was a rag swimming within.

"You messed around with your head, E'lir," thundered the big breadman at me. Only then did I realize the pain from an crusting wound on my forehead, the very shape which comes from banging your own head against a wall. Which I had also no memory of.

"Did you try to sacrifice brain capacity in order to get a clear head again? It might have been one of your cleverer ideas. Getting behind the locked door was not. If not for Ariel, who stuck it shut behind us again, Iax would have stolen the sun as well. Without sun there is no light, don't you realise that?"

"I will never again-"

"I dare say you won't. You will help me protect the door, instead. That is, if you manage to pull together enough brain capacity for opening the passage way. Don't you want this?"

Puppet ate the rest of little Elodin in front of my eyes. Then he moved over to the wall speaking a word. I didn't hear it, though.

"Excuse me," I cried, getting to my feet as quickly as I could. "What did you say, Puppet?"

"Don't call me that name," Puppet growled and was gone.

I had some conversations with Puppet after that. I did some archaeology in the Underthing. What I today know about the thing behind the four-plate door is this:

Once upon a time, there was a creator funnily enough, called Iax, as Iax meaned "unnamed" in the meaning of names. Iax was a fun person. He made bees produce glue instead of honey, he made the fae creatures lose their abilities and become humans and he stole the moon. He did this to create his own realm, the fae, to which he applied the abilities he had stolen from the humans.

However, some of the fae creatures went mad with longing for their home. They did everything Iax wanted in order to return. But the biggest reward their master could offer to them, was some of the stolen human's magic, which turned them weird and sometimes vicious. They are still imprisoned in the fae and are called demons by the Thelin church. And Iax, the unnamed, chose to call himself Encarnis, the lord of demons.

He erected the greystones, doors that led from the fae to the human world. This was, what he needed the moon for you see, as transport always needs energy. The greystones were the holes he tore into the prison that was the fae, as he didn't want to stay in his castle forever.

But there were others of his kind and when they saw what Encarnis had done, they either chose side in his favour or against. Most creators chose to fight with Encarnis, but some did not. Thelu, for instance, chose side against him, as did Selitos. But most folk fighting the tyrant came from the rows of the gentler shapers, that were more in numbers but inexperienced in warfare. Both the world and the fae came close to a breakdown then, and there weren't many that survived the creation war.

In the end, the last shapers managed to imprison Encarnis in a lightstone prison, carrying it deep below earth neither in the human world nor in the fae but somewhere in between. They knew the prison would not hold him forever. Thus they made three ways to Encarnis' cave. One that led to the human world, so that the humans could research on a method to trap Encarnis more efficiently. One was attached to the fae realm, and it was the most used one. The fae were charged with the task to maintain the magic that held Encarnis. And they called those sacrificing their life force to do so Amyr, the ones that worked for the good of all. Until they died.

But there was a third entrance.

None of the scrolls of the Amyr say, where this one led, except that it was a place where none could return. When the last Amyr died, the way between fae and cave was forgotten, and the key was lost. Thousands of years Encarnis had lain imprisoned, losing his sanity, if not his life, festering his viciousness. Over this he had forgotten how to free himself. And thus he still lies behind the four-plate-door, waiting for his opportunity to end the world.

Maybe I should get a few things straight: First of all, I am not an Amyr. And though I have helped Puppet find all books on them an hide them in his private library in the Underthing, this means nothing. Even Puppet is not an Amyr, strictly speaking. All Amyr are dead.

Which has caused the second incident I met the princess.

You see, some things are not entirely passed on, as they fall... well... dead. My colleague from the hospital claims there are persons whose heart stops beating, but who are still breathing for hours lying in some kind of stupor. Sometimes they awake again, mostly they don't. Well, I guess, If I had been so lucky with the barrow king, I'd saved myself from several injuries.

But no such luck.

As with the third and last time I would encounter the princess, my pupil Kvothe was involved. He came looking for me one day, meeting me in one of the seedier taverns. I was not surprised. He has a knack for getting to places he should better avoid.

"You should better leave, E'lir," I advised. "Especially as I see you left your shade at home."

"Master Elodin," Kvothe said, surprised and nearly knocking his beer over in the process. "What are you doing here?" He pronounced it with the careful attendance one puts to words as soon as one has had several drinks.

"And right you are," I muttered. "I guess your words will one day be the end of you, E'lir."

"What?", asked Kvothe sluggishly.

"I said: What are you doing here?" I said aloud.

Kvothe looked at me dubiously.

"Funny, I could have sworn I just asked you the same question." He pointed to his spilled beer.

"I am drinking."

"May I ask why you were shouting my name?"

I had not thought to see him so soon again after he ran from school again. Of course, I should have known he was back from the higher frequency of Adem warriors in Imre. Apparently, the bigger the boy grew, the bigger the trouble.

"No, you may not ask," said Kvothe gesturing to the barman for more beer. He was ignored, though. The barman, you see, will always serve the most dangerous person in his establishment first and I was thirsty, too. Kvothe eyed my beer longingly after I prevented him from stealing it.

"But I may consider telling you."

"So?"

Suddenly, there were tears in Kvothe's eyes. I could have guessed they were real and not some part of his stage training. After some really frightening sobs and clutching on my robes, he whined:

"Who asked you to go after me anyway? You are not my dad, after all."

I chuckled.

"marta certae, partae incertus eram," Which meant roughly "mothers are known, fathers not." in Temic.

"You are not my father," Kvothe repeated himself. "You are not my teacher, You are not my older brother, so why don't you simply walk away and let me intensify understanding of the Lethani?"

"Because you are stupid beyond mortal kind."

"I am. Where is my lute?"

Some of the Adem's sitting nearby shot us a disgusted look and left.

"Maybe the same place you left your shade," I guessed.

Kvothe suddenly came to his feet.

"I had to go to the Tael," he said. "And I had to go fast."

Some beers later the nasty truth emerged. And trust me, the truth is always nasty. Young Kvothe had caught an unpleasant and rare illness from his frequent encounters with women. So he decided to go to the Tael to get clear of it, before certain mercenaries found out. Clever idea, as that would leave no evidence behind. But even Kvothe's cleverness couldn't change the fact that the Tael was miles and miles away. And whom did he tell his problem?

Auri.

He told the princess.

And the princess saved him, of course.

That was why I had not seen her around the University. Because young Kvothe had lost her, his shade and nearly his life in the fae at Berenger's graveyard. It seemed the lord of the Amyr had finally caught the rat that he had chased for eternities. Because he thought he could not let her live.

Needless to say, Kvothe ran away shortly after that and left me to pay his bill. I barely managed to survive the bar fight that followed. And I had not yet managed to speak to Sleet for a horse.


End file.
